


Kiss the Cook

by outofleaves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cooking, Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofleaves/pseuds/outofleaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boredom turns to productivity as Cas and Dean discover the joys of baking together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss the Cook

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unfortunately not very proud of this one. I kind of had to rush the ending and lost track of what I had previously envisioned. It's my first not-angsty fic, though, so that's a feat in and of itself. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it regardless of my feelings about it. ^^

He’s hardly ever seen Cas in anything other than his trademark trenchcoat (which he admittedly finds rather attractive). But when Cas walks in wearing nothing but a a bathrobe and a floral-print apron and weilding a wooden spoon like it’s an angelblade, Dean can’t help but feel a tiny bit turned on. 

Cas smacks the spoon on his wrist. “Ready to, as you would say, ‘get down to business’?” he says with a sly grin.

Okay, scratch that. A lot turned on. 

Dean crawls out of the heavy duvet and yawns, stretching his arms toward the sky. The morning air feels cold against his bare chest, but at this rate he’s sure he’ll warm up soon. Very soon.

“What’s all this for?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. Cas pulls a printed sheet of paper from God knows where and sets it gingerly on Dean’s lap. 

“I have discovered a new hobby, Dean. Though I do not require sustenance from human foods, through my vessel I am able to appreciate all kinds of different tastes.” He attempts to wink seductively at Dean, who fights the urge to smile stupidly.

“So, cooking, huh? I didn’t know you were into that.” Dean scans the paper to find that it’s a recipe. Chocolate, lots of chocolate. Eggs, flour, water, vegetable oil. He runs his hand along his jawline, piecing it all together. “Brownies!” he exclaims after a moment. His mouth is already watering at the thought of them. Hot, gooey brownies coming fresh out of the oven. Batter dripping off that wooden spoon; Cas licking it off—

Dean jumps to his feet. “I hope you have the oven going,” he says. Cas smiles, pleased with himself.

“Believe me, Dean, it’s already plenty hot.”

***

In the kitchen sits a dazzling array of sparkling chrome bowls, whisks, and a colorful display of various ingredients. Cas has really overdone himself this time; Dean wonders how long it took him to gather all these things. Though considering it takes him just under two minutes for him to retrieve rare oils from Jerusalem, Dean surmises that it didn’t take too long at all.

“Okay, let’s go through this step-by-step. I’ve never made anything from scratch before,” Dean admits. “And I’m not gonna screw it up on my first try.”

He hears the flapping of wings and suddenly Cas is right behind him, looking over his shoulder. Perhaps before he might have jumped and cursed in surprise, but over the years he’s grown used to Cas popping up in the most unexpected of places. Like the shower. Or on top of Dean in the middle of the night.

Dean lifts the recipe so Cas can read it. “So it says we have to preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Did you do that, Cas?”

“Yes,” Cas affirms. “The next part is to break two eggs and set aside.”

Dean brushes past Cas and removes two brown eggs from the egg carton sitting already open on the counter. He unceremoniously cracks the eggs into a small bowl. Cas takes great interest, leaning over so far that his face almost touches the egg yolks. Dean pulls him back, warning him not to touch uncooked eggs, though it would probably make little difference to an angel. Dean still feels the undeniable urge to watch over and take care of Cas, protecting him even from that which would be harmless to him.

“Okay, done. Now we have to pour ¼ cup vegetable oil in with the eggs. The hell is vegetable oil? Sounds like something Sam would drink.”

“You don’t drink it,” Cas states, carefully pouring a viscous yellow liquid into a measuring cup. “It’s oil. Made from vegetables.”

Dean rolls his eyes and grins at Cas affectionately. Others might find Cas’s naïvety irritating; rude, even, but Dean finds it rather charming. He reaches up to steady the angel’s quavering hand. 

“Don’t pour too much,” he warns. _Don’t fuck up my brownies._

With only a few slight mishaps, spills, and affectionate name-calling, they somehow manage to pull together all the necessary ingredients. “And now I guess we mix it,” Dean says, almost more of a question than a statement. He slides the bowl over to Cas, who brandishes his wooden spoon expectantly. “You wanna take over?” Dean asks.

Cas shoots him a broad smile and plunges the spoon into the mix. But instead of stirring, he begins to hammer it, banging it against the bottom of the bowl with each thrust. Dean’s heart jumps in his chest. _He gon fuck up my brownies._ Quickly he slides over and grabs Cas’s wrist from behind. Cas starts, surprised, but he settles into Dean, leaning back so that his head rests on Dean’s bare chest. Dean reddens. He can feel the vessel’s pulse beneath his fingers, beating a mile a minute.

It makes him happy. It makes him very happy indeed. And Cas feels it too, feels Dean’s warmth penetrate his clothes. “Teach me?” he asks, not entirely sure what activity he’s referring to.

But Dean wraps his arms around Cas and takes his wrists in both hands. He places one hand on the bowl to steady it, then begins to stir the mix with Cas’s other hand. “First you should mix it slowly,” Dean murmurs, breath warm in Cas’s ear. He guides Cas in a circular motion round the bowl, gathering all the ingredients together. Cas swallows and follows Dean’s lead.

“That’s good, Cas, that’s real good,” Dean coos. He rests his head on Cas’s shoulder and releases his fingers from Cas’s wrists, letting him fly free. He moves his hands down to Cas’s stomach and squeezes him close. Cas laughs, startled. 

“Thank you; I…am trying my best,” Cas remarks. “Especially under…such circumstances.” Dean smirks; Cas feels the way his muscles move against his cheek.

“I think we’re ready to move on,” says Dean. He buries his nose in Cas’s neck and whispers instructions into the angel’s skin, sending a shiver down Cas’s spine. “Now you should go faster. You gotta mix everything together real good.” Cas obeys, dragging the spoon through the batter. Within a minute it looks absolutely perfect, and Dean places a hand on Cas’s arm and tells him to stop. 

“What do the instructions say next, Dean?”

Dean recalls his fantasy from this morning and informs Cas, “Now you have to lick the batter off the spoon real slow, okay? If it tastes good, that’s how you know it’s ready to go in the oven.” He’s making it up as he goes along, but a little bullshit never hurt anybody. In fact, Cas seems more than willing to oblige. He turns around to face Dean, looking up at him with those big, innocent blue eyes that scramble Dean’s head and make his heart hammer against his ribcage. Then, slowly, just like Dean had said, Cas slides the spoon between his lips and maneuvers his tongue over the rounded end, scooping up chocolate batter. “Is this correct?” he mumbles.

Dean can’t nod his his head fast enough. “Yeah, I think you’ve got it down.” Suddenly he feels less motivated to finish making the brownies and more motivated to slam Cas on the counter and—

“Dean? Did you hear me?” Cas says. Dean blinks, bringing himself back to reality.

“Yeah, okay. Let me see…” He grabs the recipe and reads off the next instructions. “Uh, put the pan in the oven? Do we even have a pan?”

Cas snaps his fingers and a greased pan appears next to him. He whirls back around and pours the batter in, smoothing it out at the bottom. Then he slides out of Dean’s arms, opens the oven, and pushes the mixture inside. He looks back at Dean, awaiting approval. “And now, we wait,” Cas assumes.

Dean glances back at the recipe sheet. He squints; there’s something written there in a shaky hand that hadn’t been there before. It appears as though someone added an extra step to the recipe. He grins broadly.

“Yeah, but there’s one more step. And it’s important,” Dean declares. Cas cocks his head slightly.

“What is it?”

An eyebrow raised mischievously, Dean grabs hold of Cas and pulls him in close. He can feel their two hearts beating in unison, both growing louder by the second. Leaning in until his lips brush Cas’s ear, Dean whispers, “Kiss the cook.”

Cas smiles. “I wondered when you’d find that,” he murmurs. He wraps a hand around Dean’s neck and runs the other through his hair. For a moment, each is lost in the other’s eyes. Then Dean leans down and runs his lips over Cas’s. He slides his tongue across the soft skin, tasting the scent of chocolate lingering on the angel’s lips. When at last they break away, Cas asks, “Good?”

And Dean plants a soft kiss on Cas’s nose and replies, “Good.”


End file.
